Purity
by Regina lacrimarum
Summary: Ginny is just trying to get on with her life, but avoiding her memories is proving hard and Narcissa Malfoy, intent on regaining her footing in society, is going to make it harder. Femmeslash.
1. Year

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: This is part of the Femmeslash Bootcamp. Technically, you're only supposed to do one prompt per story, but I'm cheating. I'm using prompts 3-32 to make a 30-chapter Ginny/Narcissa story, because I can and because girls are awesome. The prompt for each chapter is the title of it. This is much in the style of my previous Hermione/Fleur, in that the chapters are short and some are more drabbles than anything else.**

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Ginny's own face scowled back at her from the cover of the Daily Prophet. The headline announced, _WAR HERO GRADUATES, CELEBRATES PEACE_. The article gushed about Ginny's diploma and Order of Merlin, which Photo Ginny held unenthusiastically on either side of her face. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were there, too, but for once she alone had made the cover. It was good press for Hogwarts, press the new head of the Board of Governors could afford to buy on the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Page 3 had a picture of the new head with the headmistress of the school. Narcissa Malfoy was smiling a chilly smile and McGonagall looked miserable. Even though the picture was in black and white, Ginny would have sworn she could see the blue of the Malfoy matriarch's eyes.

It did not escape the girl's notice that the press had included the picture of Mrs. Malfoy and Ginny together. It had been taken by the lake. The photographer had cheerfully suggested that they put arms round one another to show that there was good-will between them, but there _wasn't_, and he had wisely retracted the suggestion after seeing the look on Ginny's face. Instead, they stood almost a foot apart, so that the photograph had to be zoomed out quite a bit. The spires of the castle were visible between their heads. The dislike was palpable.

Ginny threw the newspaper down with disgust. Lucius Malfoy had escaped Azkaban for what must be the fiftieth time. Draco Malfoy had a diploma somehow and was, by all accounts, lounging at his ease in the Manor with his father and mother. Mummy dearest was doing her part by living it up, hosting parties, attending parties, and meddling in the affairs of Hogwarts more than her husband had ever done.

Shaking her head so that her newly short copper hair swung around her face, Ginny went to make herself a soothing cup of tea. Thinking about the Malfoys was a stressful business, but fortunately she reckoned it was over for a while. There was no reason she should contemplate them again in the near future.

Involuntarily, Ginny shivered with distaste at the idea of those cold blue eyes. Then she very firmly put the Malfoys out of her mind.


	2. Question

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Ginny closed the lid of her suitcase, slid her wand into the pocket of her robes, and looked around her room. She didn't get that mixture of emptiness and satisfaction than accompanied emptying her Hogwarts rooms, because most of her things were staying here at the Burrow. The room was still mostly full. She expected to move her stuff to Cardiff gradually, but she was on probation for the first two months. There was no sense in moving everything if she would just have to move it back again.

Besides, Ginny occasionally caught her mother looking forlorn and empty when she thought her daughter wasn't listening. Ginny was the last of the Weasley clan to move out of the house and there was no sense in salting the wound by clearing all her belongings out as well. Swearing to herself that she would visit whenever possible, Ginny wandered upstairs. Finding her youngest brother's old room devoid of the boys it held during their holiday from Auror training, she went downstairs. Her mother obliged her with the information that Harry was in the garden with Ron and Hermione.

It was noon and the sun was deep gold in the clear sky. Harry was sprawled out on the grass, grinning about something. He saw her coming and his look became pensive. He jumped up. When he smiled at her, Ginny's stomach twisted. He was so dear to her, dear to her as her own breath. "You wanted to talk?" he said.

Ginny glanced behind him to where Ron and Hermione were trying unsuccessfully to look disinterested. "Privately?" she requested. He followed her obediently, absently trying to fix his hair. Ginny watched him struggle for a moment and then reached over to pull a blade of grass from his hair. He grinned his thanks and Ginny's heart did that odd flip-flop again.

When they were a suitable distance from their friends, Ginny began. She had practised what she would say so that it came out quickly, but it didn't come out easily. "I'm leaving for Wales tomorrow," she said, "and you're going off to the wilds of-well, you won't tell me where-in a fortnight." Harry nodded, looking confused as to why she was stating what they both knew.

"I'm not sure I can go without seeing my boyfriend for a year."

"I know it's going to be hard," Harry started to interrupt, "but you're going to make a great Harpy and I-"

"I think we should break up."

There was a sickening silence. Harry gaped at her. She wasn't sure which was worse, the utter lack of comprehension, because this kind of betrayal was beyond his imagination, or the agony that followed when it sunk in.

This part, too, Ginny had rehearsed, but as she spoke, she felt her words getting away from her. She was saying what she had meant to say, but desperately,begging him to understand. "Not forever, but just for a year. We should try seeing other people and see if that can make us happy. If at the end of the year, we still want to be together, we can. We can, Harry,"-she pleaded for him to forgive her-"but I can't ask you to wait. It's not fair of either of us to ask the other to wait. And honestly, haven't we had enough of waiting?"

Harry looked as though he had been sucker-punched, and Ginny knew she shouldn't have mentioned the year he had spent on the run. He had tried to break up with her then but they had both known she would wait. Now she could see that he was beating himself up, and she put her hand on his arm. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered. "It wasn't your fault, Harry, but it happened.

"Now I'm saying we should stop waiting and live our lives. Then we can see if it's right without committing ourselves to loneliness." what she was saying felt inadequate and Ginny knew Harry was blaming himself, but she didn't know how to fix it.

All she knew was that she couldn't wait for another year. She loved Harry and Harry loved her, but she wasn't made for waiting. Her first seventh year had been draining. Part of that had been the constant threat of death, but another part was the feeling that her heart had been torn in two and all she could do was wait passively for someone to give her back the missing half. Ginny hated passivity.

Harry didn't speak for a long time. Once he looked as if he wanted to pull her to him but he lowered his hands and balled them by his side. At last he said, "I don't understand. But if it's what you want, it's what you want. I just... I..." He was silent for a long time more.

When he started talking again, he was controlling his words. "I love you, but I won't wait if you won't."

Even though she wanted him to be happy, it hurt to hear him confirm that it was over. "Good," she said. Unable to keep still any longer, she turned abruptly and went into the house, into her room, and onto her bed. Then she cried.

She had cried herself out when she heard the tapping but she was still exhausted and miserable. It was coming from a glossy black owl who perched docilely on the sill to await a reply. The seal was not familiar to Ginny, but she slid her letter opener under it carefully so that the silver wax came up in one piece. The parchment was heavy and the hand of the writer was small and careful. Ginny's eyes slid to the name at the bottom and all became clear. Only Narcissa Malfoy would have such a high-class script.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_ (the letter read)

_I hope this finds you and your family well. I wanted to congratulate you again on your graduation. A friend of mind on the Examiner's Board tells me your marks were very good and there, too, congratulations are in order. I understand you are soon to be an aunt. On this count please extend my congratulations to your brother, who will, I am sure, be an excellent father.  
_

_I'm afraid this is a letter to ask a question and beg a favour. I am the chair of a ladies' club that meets on Sunday from one to five. We discuss matters of importance to Wizarding society and enjoy light refreshments and entertainment. We are trying to recruit from the younger generation and would be honoured if you could join us._

_Narcissa Malfoy._

Ginny dropped the letter as though she had been soiled by the contact. The first paragraph was almost offensive in its empty courtesy, implying as it did that there had never been any war. The second was worse. "Pureblood" hung unspoken before the word "ladies." Ginny could just picture them sitting there, saying nothing politically unwise but never mentioning a Mudblood by name. It spoke volumes about Narcissa's commitment to image that she even tried to include Ginny. It must have killed her to invite a blood traitor.

These things being so, it never crossed Ginny's mind to accept the invitation. Furthermore, impatient as she generally was with the Malfoys, her current state of mind did away with the last shreds of manners. Not bothering to get her own parchment, she reached for her quill and scratched her response on the reverse of the letter.

_I regret that I will not be able to attend, due to Quidditch training sessions. I direct you to Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of this younger_ _generation_.

Sloppily folding the parchment, Ginny handed it to the owl, which took off without further ado. Collapsing back on her bed, Ginny discovered that she still had tears to cry for Harry.

The onset of dusk found Ginny still lying on her bed. She had barely been able to face dinner and had gone down only because it was to be her last dinner at home for a while. She had not looked at Harry, or at Ron or Hermione, who surely knew by now. As Mrs. Weasley brought out the pudding, she had made her excuses and returned to the room she shared with Hermione. Hermione hadn't been in all afternoon and Ginny suspected she would camp out somewhere else. Hermione had a reputation for being blunt, but she could also be remarkably tactful.

Tap, tap, tap. To Ginny's astonishment, Narcissa Malfoy's owl had returned with a fresh missive.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_I am sorry to hear about the conflict with Quidditch training. I understood that you did not have training from Saturday to Monday, or I should never have asked. Thank you for recommending Miss Granger; she had slipped my mind. I have just written to her inviting her to join. _

_I wish you continuing good health,_

_Narcissa Malfoy._

Ginny stared numbly down at the letter. Obscenities raced through her mind so quickly that she couldn't mutter them near as fast as she thought them. The woman had called her bluff. Narcissa Malfoy had extended a hand of friendship to Hermione Granger and Hermione would take it. Ginny knew her friend would see it as her duty to cultivate goodwill wherever possible. Even knowing she was agreeing to four hours a week with women who thought of her as sub-human, she would go.

That meant Ginny had to go. It was her fault Hermione had been dragged into it and she couldn't very well let her friend go alone into a nest of vipers. With bad grace, she turned the letter over and wrote a reply on the back.

_Dear Madam,_

_Forgive me_, she wrote, and then crossed it out because she wouldn't ask forgiveness of a Malfoy even glibly.

_I misread your letter and I will be able to attend after all. I will see you next Sunday._

_Ginevra Weasley._

This was going to be fantastic.


	3. Curse

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

The rooms of Malfoy Manor were blued slightly in the early morning light as Narcissa Malfoy sat in her library, reading her correspondence. She couldn't concentrate, as she hadn't been able to concentrate for the last month, since she had been forced to make an appearance at the Hogwarts graduation ceremony. It was then that she had seen the Weasley girl.

Ginevra Weasley had been standing alone, looking up at the castle. She was wearing black dress robes that Narcissa's trained eye recognised as second-hand. Her hair brushed against her neck and stuck out in little spikes at her shoulders. Her face was pale and her eyes were dark.

Seeing her, Narcissa had read in that white face all the pain that the war had wrought on that family and their friends. What no number of memorials or obituaries or commemorative songs or paintings or statues could do, Ginevra's face did in one instant. Weasley's face was completely still, as if she were indeed a white marble statue.

The feeling that had haunted Narcissa since the final battle, the sense that she and hers had got off too easily somehow, swept over her, and then she understood that this was her punishment. She was cursed to see that face and know that she couldn't offer any comfort or support or even apology. It was to be her burden to see the sorrows of a people on the face of one girl and to know that she had caused them.

Of course, the hurt didn't stop there. The second part hit a second after the first and Narcissa almost laughed at the splendid cruelty of it. While she looked on the face of Pyrrhic victory, she saw also the face of beauty. She wanted to hold the girl more than she had wanted anything or anyone else in her life, more than she had ever wanted Isabella (nee Merton, married names Rodford, Warwick, Zabini), certainly more than she had ever wanted Lucius.

It had taken all of her strength to stand apart from the girl while they mingled for the cameras. Miss Weasley had met her eyes only once and then had left to find her parents. That one glance was full of contempt and it left Narcissa shaking. She wanted to pull Ginevra to her and sob a thousand apologies but she could not. She didn't have the right.

She would see Miss Weasley tomorrow. As she looked down at the girl's scrawled acceptance, Narcissa wondered how she would bear the pain of this curse, which cut deeper than any spell.

**A/N: Thank you for reading and please review. This pairing isn't common enough for me to have enough traffic that I can afford readers who don't review. I know there are people reading this because I can see the little stats chart.**


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